Fiction
by Lady Bast
Summary: When confronted, will you strike back?


Disclaimer: Final Fantasy 8 belongs to Square-Enix

Fiction

Clang.

It broke, tiny pieces of metal littering the floor. He fell with them, a dull crack and his bent arm a reminder of how close he was to failure.

He tried to move, his motions directionless, all purpose forgotten on the presence of his throbbing arm.

It moved, no body to guide it, prescient and feeling towards him. It's words were a pressing fire on his head, a doubt growing on his head.

"Why do it?"

A thorn this words, gnawing every movement, trapping his restless mind.

"Why do it?"

Close, closer, above him. How could such a small thing grow so much?

And it unfolded, Esthar brimming on it's midst, closing on him.

He remembered. A hot July, the city under a monstrous heat. His father had invited him to spend some days on the coast, a get together between the two of them. Laguna's smile was easy, his arms a warm welcome that refreshed his heart. The water a cool blue, small weaves breaking on his feet when he walked with Ellone, a force of nature crashing against the land on the tempestuous nights. Family days, between two dark horizons.

It came one day, August on it's heels, the water carrying it. Such a small whisper. It's tune grew, turned to casual conversation. On the streets, dismissed rumors of everyday life. But it carried a doubt. What if...?  And with it came fear. It wasn't so quiet anymore. Some shouted, reuning with them those cowardly enough to step forward without a shade of protection. A leader was born, and Esthar was on the brick of an uprising against those who liberated it.

The II Sorceress War brought with it many questions. The media piqued the theme, analyzing, dissecting, presuming it. But the main question remain unsolved. Who were the sorceress?

"Who were the sorceress, indeed? The original ones, daughters of Hyne, whose powers have been passed from centuries long gone, a perpetual line never to be broken? What do they mean?  These questions and much more on Balamb News, with Cliff Richards."

With the sorceress came prophets, mystics, new gods and goddesses awake from their graves. All claiming the favor of Hyne. The petty squabbling turned to a full fledge war with a spontaneous combustion live on TV. Acusing fingers demanded justice and everybody screamed. Literally. But nothing prepared them for the knowledge that within all of them, all of them, was the power of an untapped sorcery. People feared. Was their neighbor the next evil to step foot on the land? Were all of them possessed? Everyone cowered and all heads turned to the black sheep among them. Those who had powers. Sorceress.

Illness. Diseased. And all began anew.

Estharians were no different from other people. They trusted their sweet Ellone, whose powers Ultimecia sought and used, unleashing the lunar cry above them. And the gears turned.

Frowning, his father went to the window, looking  out to the street. He remembered the astonished eyes, the screams to run, and the smoke, blinding him, choking him. When he was young, the pain of losing someone dear created a hole in his heart, closing it to the outside world. A silent pain, whishing away on the rain. Older, there was the fire surrounding him, he  holding her hand, his voice horse from screaming, seeking, seeking ... and finding it.

And now, he faced them (it, he reminds himself), clouded minds, closed to the will of their hearts.

"Why do you do it?"

Why, when she left you? (He remembers her smile, the impish face.) Why, when you grew so jaded? (He remembers the butterfly, small on her fingers.) Why, when she didn't say good-bye? (He remembers her last kiss, late in the night and the tear on her lips.)

"Why do you do it?

He opened his eyes, the shape receding. Rolling. Waiting. There's the need to face the past. To build a future.

Not to shield, not to run, not to fear.

And now...now it grows, all consuming, striking. He awaits the beat of it on his face. And confronts it.    

Thanks for reading. Don't forget about those who have AIDS. Don't fear them. Don't leave those dear to you.

Fogive any mystakes. English not my mother-tongue.


End file.
